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by fyborg23



Series: check [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Creampie, Id Fic, M/M, Multi, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:09:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2294585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyborg23/pseuds/fyborg23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sutes has a Shea Weber problem. Zach doesn’t want a Shea Weber problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





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Zach loves the X, skating at home, playing with the green sweater on, waving to the little kids in the stands during the warm-ups.

What he doesn’t like is playing the Predators. Or sharing the ice with Shea-fucking-Weber. Zach glides by Sutes, their eyes meeting, and Zach bites his lip. Sutes has a Shea Weber problem. Zach doesn’t want a Shea Weber problem.

Probably wasn’t the best idea to fuck him, but— Zach flushes, looks down, and lobs a puck gently towards Backstrom. He shouldn’t think about it now. Or ever. He refuses to look at Weber striding across the ice, his blades almost bumping up against the border of the center line a few times, looking for a _fight_.

Zach and Sutes are in the starting line up, and of course, Weber’s in the starting line up for the Preds. Zach makes himself look at the fluttering flag on the jumbotron, not at how Sutes’ shuffling his blades from side to side.

The lights turn on full blast, and Zach blinks against the harsh whiteness of ice and fluorescent light as he jams on his helmet. Sutes gives him a stick tap as he takes up his position, and Zach smiles back.

It’d be nice to kick Weber’s ass.

#

Zach’s carrying the puck in, looking for Granny, when Weber  _fucking clips_  him, bumping against his knees and jarring his teeth.

He trips, off-balance, and finds himself plastered against the boards, snarling at the vicious and _unrepentant_  look on Weber’s face. Weber bares his teeth as he fires the puck back to Neal, and Zach shouts, “You fucking asshole.”

Weber huffs out a laugh, and circles away from Zach. It’s a  _goad_ , one that Zach can’t help but respond to, and he shoves at Weber, says, “You trying to take me out?” Weber doesn’t even budge, and Zach feels like he’s being dipped in acid, burning hot and his head fizzy.

Zach refuses to crane his neck up to meet Weber’s soulless eyes, but it doesn’t prevent him from hearing Weber say, “Why would I, when you’ve got an ass I could fuck?”

Weber’s lips drag out the  _fuck_ , and Zach doesn’t inhale swiftly and clench his jaw at the afterimage of Weber tonguing his ass thoroughly. No, he doesn’t.

He may have a Shea Weber problem.

Zach skates off for a line change, and he can feel Sutes’ eyes on him from the bench. He hopes Sutes isn’t going to do anything stupid, but that hope dims as Sutes skates towards Weber after the next whistle and checks him in the kidneys.

Weber doesn’t flop— probably too proud to dive even if it’s a  _gimme_ — but instead  _smiles_  and shoves Suter back, his stick against Sutes’ chest. Sutes doesn’t snarl, but Zach can see his lips thin just before he jabs Weber in the shoulder with the butt of his stick. Weber pushes back with his own hands on Sutes’ sweater, bunching up the Wild logo with his fists, and oh god—

Sutes clouts a hand towards Weber’s ear, and the smile Weber gives Sutes chills Zach, the yellow mouthguard making it even more  _sinister_. Weber leans towards Sutes, his words too low to hear from this far away, but it doesn’t take Superman to figure out that Sutes doesn’t like what Weber’s saying.

Zach licks his lips, despite his mouth being dry, and his heart is pounding between his ears, between his legs. It’s uncomfortable, and he wants to squirm on the hard metal bench. He doesn’t, mostly because he doesn’t want to draw even more attention to himself with how many cameras are split between  _them_  and the bench view.

For all the— Zach doesn’t want to use the word  _drama_ , but it’s there— it’s not even a tussle, no helmets fly off, no gloves get dropped. Weber gets two for roughing, and Sutes gets two for interference.

The Wild, at least, score during the four-on-four.

#

Sutes’ mad, and he’s even quieter this time. The Wild scrapped out a win, barely, after going to a shootout. And of course, the press guys are more interested in what Sutes and Weber said to each other for those thirty seconds.

Zach yanks off his skates. Not that he blames them, he’s interested too.

Sutes shoves back his hair, slicking it even more with sweat, and says slowly, “Disagreements happen. Just don’t care for them on the ice. We’re here to play hockey.” He doesn’t say anything more about it, and refuses to. He can be very stubborn when he wants to be.

And very easy when he wants to be, Zach finds himself adding with a nervous twist in his stomach. Weber has to know what Sutes thinks of him, but he keeps coming back for  _more_.

Which.

Zach still thinks about getting fucked by them, but they’re just thoughts. It’s not like Sutes would pet the back of his neck like he always does before he presses his dick into him, and say, “I want Weber to fuck you,” or Sutes would press Zach’s dick back against his abs as Weber works his tongue between his legs, makes Zach fuck himself--

He bites down on the inside of his mouth. Time and place to think about  _that_ , and it’s probably not in this room, surrounded by teammates and Sutes looking so brittle he could snap at any moment.

Zach rushes through getting dressed as much as he can with an A on his sweater— he gets to answer questions too— and Sutes has a look in his eyes that makes Zach think about Sutes fucking his mouth so deep his throat is sore the next day. Maybe Sutes’ll be so wound up he’ll drag his hands through Zach’s hair and hold him in place, filling his mouth with cock and coming on his face.

He has hopes, and Sutes’ hand brushes against Zach’s own, and he can feel the charge in between them, like two magnetic poles pulling at each other. Zach gives Sutes a smile, which he takes with a dark look that makes Zach want to speed on the way home.

They walk out towards their car, and there’s a large figure underneath the harsh overhead light leaning against it.

Zach’s starting to figure out Shea Weber likes dramatics.

Sutes stiffens, and says, “What are you doing  _here_ ,” as flat as he can manage. Zach slides slightly behind him— not because Weber scares him or anything, but because he doesn’t want to be  _between_  them. Weber hums, doesn’t say anything as he straightens, and Zach notices that Weber managed to get even broader during the offseason. The jacket Weber’s wearing strains to even close around that thick torso, and Weber catches Zach looking.

He gets cut by the smile Weber shows. Zach scowls at both of them and says, “This is ridiculous.”

Weber’s smile is dry and brittle when he says, “And 13 years isn’t?”

“I thought you were smarter than that,  _Ryan_ ,” he continues, and Sutes looks like he wants to punch Weber in the mouth and leave his lips red.

Sutes doesn’t punch Weber, though. Zach makes himself step in, say, “You want even  _more_? After—”

“Maybe seeing you suck on my cock did it for me, Parise,” Weber says.

Zach probably shouldn’t make that noise. Sutes probably shouldn’t make that  _same_  noise either. Weber gives them a self-satisfied look, and that just  _goads_  Sutes into saying, “Prove it,  _Shea_.”

It’s not unexpected but— the heat all over Sutes, Weber—

He wants to get home now, get naked now. They manage to drive home with Weber lurking in the backseat like a movie villain, and pull into the garage without running anything over.

Zach licks his lips as he gets out of the car, and Weber pushes him against the side of the car, looks over at Sutes on the other side, and  _grinds_  against Zach’s hard-on. Zach arches, and Weber presses him back against the car door, on the verge of denting it, says into Zach’s ear, “You moaned for me, maybe you should scream this time—”

He’d normally snort at that  _macho_  display but fucking hell, Zach’s too turned on to even think. He reaches up and strokes Weber’s beard, says, “You’re gonna have to work at that,” and the look Weber gives Zach makes him want to  _bite_.

Zach cranes his head towards Sutes, and Sutes manages, “A bed is better than a garage—” and smiles  _at_ Weber. Weber blinks like he’s been wrong-footed, and Zach curls his hands around Weber’s hips and rubs his dick against Weber’s pants. Weber licks his lips, and then grits his teeth before he pushes off Zach and  _manhandles_  him inside.

Sutes and Zach both smirk behind Weber’s back, and Sutes runs a hand down to his back, to the waistband of his pants, and says, “Come just for me.” Heat curls up in Zach’s gut at the sheer possession in Sutes’ voice, and Zach licks his lips.

Weber overhears them, and kisses Zach hard, his beard stinging on Zach’s lips. “You that good of a boy?” Weber smirks.

He pushes his hands up under Weber’s shirt and says, “You think you can manage that,” pressing on Weber’s pecs, and Zach gets pushed against the wall, surrounded by Weber. He rocks against Zach, making Zach lick his lips and spread his legs to make room for Weber.

Sutes rakes a firm hand down Weber’s back, and Weber jerks like he’s been burned. Sutes pulls at his hair, making Weber’s neck bend back in an arc that  _begs_  to be bitten, says, “You should suck my come out of Zach.”

Weber blushes— and so does Zach. Zach toes off his shoes and pushes down his pants, and his dick twitches when both Sutes and Weber look at him. Sutes smooths Zach’s underwear over his hard dick, just showing above the worn waistband, and it’s all he can do to keep himself  _just_  to moaning.

Weber trails his fingers over Zach’s groin, his teeth pressed against his lip, before he steps back and shrugs off his clothes. Zach can feel Sutes looking at Weber getting naked, at the lie of his thick dick against his thigh. Zach  _wants_.

Everything.

Sutes squeezes at Zach’s hip, and manages to shove them into the bedroom. Weber’s on Zach instantly, his tongue hot against his asshole, and Zach  _claws_  at the sheets. Sutes presses his fingers against the bow of Zach’s lips, and Zach sucks at them, listening to Suter breathe heavily. Zach presses back against Weber’s tongue— it’s as wicked as he remembers it, and he feels  _dirty_  especially with Suter watching Zach blush and moan because of  _Weber_.

Sutes smiles, though, when Zach looks up at him, and slides his fingers out of Zach’s mouth. He slides the tip of his dick over Zach’s mouth, and Zach sucks, making Sutes fill him up. Distantly he can hear Weber cursing and slicking his fingers with lube, but he’s too busy getting his face fucked agonizingly slowly, his throat working against the tip of Sutes’ dick.

Weber pushes two fingers in, making Zach moan around Sutes, and Sutes arches up into Zach’s mouth, slides a heavy hand over the side of Zach’s face.

“Fuck, look at you,” Weber says, “perfect cocksucker,” and Sutes makes a wounded noise like he’s on the edge of coming, but doesn’t want to, so Zach curls his palm clumsily around Sutes’ balls.

Sutes presses a hand down on the back of Zach’s head in silent thanks, and says, “Fuck him for me.”

Heat prickles up and down Zach’s spine, like Sutes’ offering him up to Weber just this  _once_ , and Weber’s fingers slide rougher into him, pressing down hard on his prostate. Zach’s full, almost the wrong sort of full, but the way Weber presses his hands against Zach and the way Sutes’ using his mouth is too good.

Weber rakes his hand up Zach’s neck, his nails pressing against Zach’s scalp, and he can feel himself getting the sheets wet with precome. Weber shoves his dick inside him, rude and thick, and Zach presses back, dragging his mouth off Sutes and moaning at the pressure. Sutes’ breathing hard, and Zach can feel his own dick pulse.

“Come on, fuck me,” Zach manages, and that makes Weber  _growl_  and thrust hard into his ass. Zach’s stretched, on the wrong side of pain, but god, the way Sutes looks down at him just before he presses his dick back into Zach’s mouth.

Weber’s thicker than Sutes, not as gentle, and his hands are all over Zach, pressing down on his skin, looking for any sort of reaction. Zach’s too reactive, but Sutes keeps fucking his mouth, making him pay attention to  _this_ , to being used, to being fucked open.

A twist, a swivel, makes Weber  _glide_ , easily, and that manages to make Zach’s balls tighten against him. Zach feels like he could come, fuck, so dense and hot, and Weber just slides out of him.

Zach moans, and Weber smirks, “I could just touch your dick and you’ll be coming, wouldn’t you.”

It feels wrong to blush with dick in his mouth, and Sutes grits, “Don’t.”

“Then fuck him,” Weber challenges, “Or I’ll finish it.”

Sutes slides out of his mouth, and Zach presses back against Sutes, familiar in ever way, and Weber presses down on Zach’s lips with his fingers. Zach’s dick feels heavy with all of the blood, and Sutes’ jerks against him, his hands sliding over Zach’s hips as Weber just  _touches_  Zach.

Sutes licks the back of Zach’s neck, and they kiss each other. Zach can’t quite see Sutes’ face from this angle, but he can ask him to let him come, to smear Weber with their come—

“Please,” is all he can manage, and Sutes rests his hand on Zach’s dick as they rock against each other, coming in a shuddering heap. Weber watches it with dark eyes, and that makes Zach push out some more come.

Weber brushes against Zach, saying, “Wasn’t so hard,” and Sutes pushes his softening dick into Zach, making Zach conscious of the come he’s leaking. Sutes slides out carefully, and Zach just lies flat out on his front, feeling Weber’s hands spread him, his fingers smearing come and lube all over his ass.

Weber darts his tongue in, and it’s too much, Zach’s oversensitive, and he’s just rocking against Weber’s mouth. Zach can feel Weber’s beard prickle, and Weber just pushes for more, makes Zach open up around him  _again_. It’s so wet, and god, Zach can feel himself getting hard again. It’s painful, but he wants more,  _needs_  more.

After an age, Weber finally pulls back, and Zach turns carefully over onto his back, spreading his legs. Sutes and Weber’s eyes slide all over Zach like he’s a  _buffet_ , and Zach wants to reach down and cover his rock-hard dick.

Weber smirks, “You up to getting fucked again,” and Zach bites his lips as Weber spreads his legs. Sutes licks his lips, and Zach wishes this wasn’t so a problem.

“If you think you can,” Zach says, trying for bravado and missing hard. Weber grins hard, and slicks himself up, sliding into Zach easily. Zach tosses his head back, and Weber rakes his teeth over Zach’s throat, muttering “Going to make you come again,” and Zach presses down, clenches at him.

Weber knows how to fuck, making Zach quiver and working him over just like he knows what Zach wants. Zach doesn’t want to curl his hands around Weber’s shoulders, doesn’t want to cross his legs over Weber’s back, but he does anyway, and Weber pushes in roughly like that was a surprise.

He clenches his teeth at the thick drag, and he shakes his way to coming, spurting across his abs weakly and shaking until Weber grips purple marks into his hips and comes. They look at each other, panting, and Weber abruptly averts his eyes and pulls out too quickly.

Zach looks over at Sutes, licking his lips, and Sutes gives him  _that_  smile again. Their hands twine around each other, and they both look at Weber, who looks  _wrecked_. Weber licks his lips, says, “Have fun licking my come out of Parise’s ass,” and stretches as he gets up.

Sutes strokes lightly down Zach’s abs, and says, “Oh,  _I_   will.”

Zach feels like he’s on display again, and that feeling doesn’t go away as they watch Weber dress and leave. Sutes strokes his hair, and looks at Zach, “You were so hot.”

Color rushes to Zach’s cheeks, and yeah, he’s happy to know Sutes got off on  _him_  getting fucked hard. He leans in and kisses Sutes almost chastely, says, “Shower?”

Sutes smirks, “Probably a good idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr!](http://hastybooks.tumblr.com)


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